Starcrossed
by OMGalarm
Summary: ON HIATUS! It's Chicago, late 1890's. Edward's a rich mayor's son, and Bella lives on the street. This is the story about them meeting and falling in love.
1. Paths are crossed

**This is my first chaptered Twi-fic! I'm excited to see how this goes. It's different than anything I've written before, and I hope I won't be a total fluke at it. Thanks so much to the Project Team Beta people, Whitlocked and Rachel, who saved this from total damnation. Please leave me a review if you think this is worth continuing!**

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It was an unusually cold night, colder than any night so far this autumn. October had just rolled in over Chicago, and the frosty wind bit every face that traveled down the busy street. People were walking faster that usual, eager to reach their destinations; rubbing their hands to keep warm and huffing out clouds of frost, making it look like everyone was smoking cigarettes. Horses were neighing in protest as they dutifully pulled along their carriages, and the clunk of their hooves seemed to reverberate between the house walls, louder than usual in the crispy silent air. Pigeons were cooing on the chimney tops, huddling close together for warmth and cats were scraping against doors and windows, begging to be let inside.

Edward Cullen on the other hand, was walking aimlessly around, kicking his feet in the soil and watching all the people milling about. He'd been walking for nearly an hour, and though he almost couldn't feel his toes anymore and his nose was nearly numb, he had no desire to head home quite yet. Despite the fact that his home was grand and warmed with fireplaces in every room, and a maid ready to serve him a warm cup of tea. He was avoiding his parents. They were upset with him, again, after yet another failed dinner party. His mother seemed to host them more and more often these days, yet Edward stayed aloof and disinterested no matter how much she prodded and threatened and even begged. He sighed, erupting a big cloud of damp air.

She invited the finest ladies and gentlemen of Chicago to these parties, and always the ones who had daughters. Always daughters around Edward's age, peculiar enough, and the richest and prettiest at that. Edward had now become twenty years old, and his mother thought that it was not a second too early for him to marry, and start a family of his own. They were an established first class family after all, his father being the mayor in town, and it was now Edward's responsibility to settle down and prepare to take over the family legacy. She had a reputation to uphold, and she knew that all the ladies in her sewing club already frowned upon Edward's lack of enthusiasm for, well, everything. He didn't attend any of their fine balls, he didn't converse politely at dinner parties, nor had he courted any lady, or seemed interested in doing so. All _their_ sons had either married already or found a lady to court, and did promising work in their father's companies.

So when Edward had directly brushed off Martha Stephens earlier that day - such a lovely, pretty little lady - she'd been furious. She had almost caused a scene right there among all the guests, as she gripped his arms and pulled him out into the hallway.

"When are you going to come to your senses?" she'd yelled, as she shook his arm so hard that Edward, skinny and awkward as he was, almost lost his footing. "You are making a fool of me, of your family, and offending the young ladies' parents when you make them go home disappointed every time. I swear, if you're not engaged within your twenty-first birthday, I'll pledge you delirious and send you off to the mad house. God knows I'd be within my rights!" Edward had scowled and stormed out the front door without a word.

This had led him to where he was now, brooding down the streets of the city, getting colder by the minute. He cursed his mother and her constant bickering, as he thoughtlessly turned left into another street. He noticed quickly by the sudden dim light that he'd entered a narrow alleyway, surrounded by dirty brick walls and clouded by the smoke from several chimneys, and was now facing an odd looking obstacle in the middle of the road. He cautiously crept closer, curious to what was sitting in the middle of the way like that. A few feet away, could make out a shape in the dim light.

It was a girl, sitting on the paving stones, leaning against the brick wall. She was short and thin, he noticed at first glance. So thin, it was apparent that she couldn't have had a real meal in at least a month, and it seemed she was so short and childishly built from constant malnutrition. She wore a long, grey dress, which could have been a nice casual dress once, but was now ripped and worn, and spattered with dirt and dark stains. It was also a little short by the ankles, and tight around her neck, making it obvious that it was several sizes too small. Her leather shoes almost didn't hang together at the sole, and he could see her toes sticking out at several places. As if this wasn't enough to prove that she was poor and homeless, her waist long brown hair was in disarray, and full of dried old mud. Her face was streaked, brown patches against her pristine white skin.

Her eyes though, in comparison, were bright and shiny, round and brown, her only feature clean and unmarred by dirt. And when he looked into them, he felt a sting at his heart that he could remember having experienced once before when he'd looked into the eyes of a beaten dog that he had found, left for dead on the street. They held the same hopeless sorrow, and he'd fallen in love with the dog right then, and brought it home to nurture it. It had been the most useful and good Edward had felt in his whole life, even though the dog had been damned, and died within a few days.

She looked at him desperately with those big eyes, never blinking, and she puckered her lips and shuddered. Despite it all, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Hello," he said timidly and politely nodded his head.

"Hello," she answered. Her voice was deep and soft, sounding older than her appearance, and shaking from the cold. She was clearly biting her teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Why are you sitting here?" Edward asked. It felt like such a stupid question, of course she was poor and had no home, but he thought it was an appropriate way to start a conversation. He wondered why he hadn't just walked by already, as random conversation was not something he usually engaged in. Yet he couldn't seem to move his feet, and pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"Well, I got nowhere else to be," she said. "And this alley is sheltered from the wind."

"You're quite right," Edward said lightly, looking around as if considering the lack of wind. "But it's still cold as ice here, and the ground is wet. You must be freezing."

"That I am," she answered.

"Come with me, I live right by," Edward said before his head had caught up with his mouth, rejecting the voice at the back of his mind that told him his parents would have told him to send her away immediately, and that the servants might tell on him. It didn't matter; he felt an imminent need to get this girl away from the cold and starvation. The girl studied him for quite some time, looking wary.

"Why should I come with you?" she asked at last, her voice taking on a quite different tone. Edward understood, as he figured it wasn't every day that nice clothed, rich gentlemen came by her alley and asked her to come home with them. At least not gentlemen with honest intentions.

"Because it will rain soon, and you'll freeze yourself to death in this weather. Also, you look absolutely starved. I have a warm house, and food. Please, let me help you," Edward said with more sincere empathy than he'd ever felt before.

"I've survived very well so far, thank you," she snapped. She was eying his outstretched hand, and through her harsh words he could see that she was tempted by his offer.

"Then you could surely survive this," he quipped back. He bent down and pulled her to her feet as she relented.

"Fine, fine. But only until I get some warmth back in my body. And don't think for a second that we'll negotiate any _special _way for me to pay you back." Edward wondered what she meant with that, as he could hardly see any way this girl could pay him back, unless that ragged clothing was just a safety trick to keep a lot of money safe.

He led her the short way back to his house, thinking that it was late and his parents had undoubtedly gone to sleep, and hopefully the servants weren't running about. Her eyes were big as saucers as he opened the iron wrought gates to his home, and led her to the front door. She stepped inside quickly, and hugged herself with her arms as she looked in awe around the large, dark entrance hall. She seemed so out of place, too small and too inappropriate. She looked back at him without a word.

"I assume you're hungry and cold? We have some food in the kitchen, and there's a fireplace in there too," he suggested. He suddenly imagined the dog as it ate desperately on an old rug in front of the fireplace. He hadn't been able to deny that one anything, and felt quite the same now.

"Please," she said with a cough. Apparently, the cold affected her more than she would admit. Edward began walking towards the kitchen doors, and motioned for her to follow. She didn't waste a second, following his trails quickly. He held the door open for her, and watched, as her eyes got even bigger when she took in the large kitchen. It was a square, tall room, with dark hardwood floors, sturdy tables and benches, and a large cracking fireplace. He went over to the table nearest the fire, and held out a chair for her, feeling elated at being able to make use of his well taught manners. He wondered if she'd ever been in a kitchen before, as he looked around for something edible. He'd never had to prepare food for himself, and wasn't very acquainted with the room. He found some bread and butter in a cupboard, which he thought good enough, and prepared thick slices for the girl and applied a rich amount of butter. Putting them on a plate, he walked over to her and had barely put it down on the table before she grabbed a piece and ate like she hadn't seen a meal in weeks. Perhaps she hadn't.

He felt oddly pleased as he watched her eat, and merely noticed that her eating manners would have her thrown out of the house long ago if anyone were around to see. He felt warm inside, useful, like he had when he'd watched the puppy devour his plate of meat, years ago. She ate just like it, like she expected someone to snatch the meal away from her any second.

"What's your name?" Edward asked, suddenly remembering that he didn't know. How impolite of him, to not even ask for her name! She didn't answer immediately, as she was busy wolfing down the last piece of bread. He thought about what name would suit her. She'd be named something normal and nice, probably, not grandiose and extravagant names like the Beatrice's and Louisiana's at his mother's dinner parties.

"Bewwa," she said, while swallowing and chewing at the same time. His mother would have found it disgusting, yet he rather thought of it as rebellious and careless. He always swallowed everything before speaking during a meal.

"Bewwa?" he repeated. Surely he couldn't have heard right.

"I'm sorry. My name is Bella," she said, as she finished everything. "What's yours?"

Bella, that's a nice name, he thought. It was concise and fitting, probably a name from Southern Europe, Spanish, maybe Italian, which fit her dark mane and eyes. He would remind himself to sneak into his father's study and seek it out.

"I'm Edward Cullen," he answered.

"Fancy," she said. "Do you have any meat? I haven't tasted meat in so long," she asked in her most begging voice, and with one look into those eyes, Edward was up from his chair and rummaging through the kitchen. He found a large ham that looked tempting, and cut off several pieces that he brought back to Bella, quickly as he could. She moaned as she ate, and chewed slowly and thoroughly, as if savoring the taste.

"This is incredible," she said in between mouthfuls, giving Edward a thankful look. He waited patiently, watching her eat. When she'd nearly eaten everything, he prepared a large cup of milk, which was gone in seconds. "I can't ever thank you enough for this," she said quietly.

"There will be no _special_ way for you to pay me back, remember?" he said, and she smiled. Edward thought she looked pretty smiling, with her little dimples and all. He'd never liked it when ladies smiled before. He'd known that they were just trying to offer themselves up for him and his heritage, but from Bella he knew it was genuine. He put away the cup and plate so the late night meal wouldn't be evident, and led Bella to the little study on the first floor, where there was a sofa amongst several bookshelves.

"Oh my," she uttered reverently when she saw all the books. She went over to a shelf and touched her fingertips across the paperbacks. She stopped every now and then, reading titles, giving comments and little laughs. It was if she was emerged in her own little world.

"You read?" Edward asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't I?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply to you can't read, just because you live on the street. I just haven't met many people my age that had any interest in books before, except for what's expected at school," he excused himself quickly. She sent him a forgiving glance over her shoulder before finally pulling out a book and settling down on the sofa. He cringed as he saw dirt smear onto the silk fabric, and wondered how he'd explain this to his mother. She looked expectantly at him, and he sat down beside her.

"My mother taught me how to read and write," she explained. "Almost from the day I was born. And I have always enjoyed it, though I don't get the chance so often. Especially not a place like this."

He was intrigued. The ladies who usually surrounded him weren't taught to read and write, they were expected to keep their homes and families, and do things suitable for a lady - like dancing, singing or playing the piano. Reading was always for the men, like those in his father's club. He'd used to sneak into the study while they had their meetings, and listened to their conversations about politics, wars and the rest of the world. The boys at his school were far more interested in sports and girls to care about reading. Apparently these rules hadn't applied to Bella.

"Where is she now, your mother?"

"She's gone," Bella said quietly, flipping a page in _Jane Eyre_. He'd read that book, and imagined himself as Mr. Rochester, old and alone, and dodging away from ladies like Miss Ingram who where crass towards his servants, and very invested in his money. He'd always think he'd rather fall in love with the clever little governess, who wouldn't care about meetings amongst the fine people, and dining room parties.

He understood that Bella wouldn't discuss her mother any further, and he was left wondering if she were dead, or if she'd simply left. Anyway, Bella was probably left alone, and he felt a pang of sorrow in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It can't be easy, living in this city all alone."

"Oh, I cope. And I'm not all alone," she answered, though far more interested in the book than in their conversation. Edward felt the need to prod her for more, wanting to hear her speak, and tell her story.

"You have other family in the city?"

"No," she answered simply, but did not elaborate. He wished she'd tell him more, that she would speak with him and show him more of all her secrets. He'd never met a girl who consisted of more than money and batting eyelashes, and now that he found one, he wanted to talk forever. He watched as her eyes went back and forth, reading sentence after sentence, and by the speed he could see that she was well educated. Her eyelashes, such a tiny little detail, were long and black, and fluttered like butterfly wings as she read, and made him think of Bella in the summer, running around the meadows on the countryside with him laughing and grasping after the colorful little creatures. She'd be clean, dressed in white, and without a care in the world just like the ladies he'd seen when they vacationed there. Oh, how unfair the world was, to deny someone like Bella all the joys in life. He wondered if she'd ever been to the countryside, or if she'd lived in the grime of the city all her life.

Suddenly, he heard creaking from the hallway stairs. Someone was on their way down, and if they'd entered the study he was sure neither Edward nor Bella would see daylight again. His heart jumped into his throat, and he pulled Bella up quickly, making the book tumble to the floor noisily.

"Someone is coming, it's probably my parents," he whispered. "Come, quick!" He pulled Bella after him as he stormed towards the door on the other side of the study. They rushed through another hallway, and entered a room that he knew had a door out to the side of the house. It had a key in the lock inside, thankfully, so he could open it and pull them out into clear air. He turned to Bella and took a hold of her shoulders. Quickly he took off his coat and laid it around Bella's narrow frame. It looked enormous on her, and reached all the way down to her knees, but it would suffice to keep her warm and dry.

"You have to leave, quickly, or else they will damn us both, okay?"

She nodded hastily.

"But Bella!" he hissed as she moved to run away. "Please come back to me. I will feed you again, and we can read more. Please?" he begged. It was so important to see her again, it felt like his whole existence depended on it.

She didn't answer, but made no move to run away. He didn't understand if that meant a yes.

"Or I'll come find you again. I promise." He took one last hard look into her eyes before he dodged back into the house, and used the servant's stairs to get to the second floor and into his bedroom. Just as he closed his door as quietly as he could, he could hear his mother come back upstairs, murmuring about useless servants leaving the lights on. With his mind in entirely different places, he took off his clothes and crept into bed. A new fluttering in his abdomen made him lie awake for a lot longer than he was used to, yet he didn't have it in him be upset about it.


	2. An imprint is made

**This took a little longer than expected! It's been ready for quite a while, but I wanted to have it thoroughly betaed. Thanks to the girls from Project Team Beta who worked on this chapter; Kathleen, Rebecca, Semo and Melissa!**

**In this chapter we get to know a little bit more about Edward and his daily life. I hope you like it, and I'll be thrilled if you review and tell me what you think! Feedback really speeds up my flow.**

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Edward found himself walking around aimlessly yet again, though this time inside the warm comforts of his own home. He had moseyed around for hours, looking at the old paintings that hung in the hallways and listening to music from the sitting room gramophone. The days seemed longer than usual, and he couldn't remember what he used to do to quell the boredom, to make the time seem more worthwhile. He referred to time like that these days, as before and after. The time before he met Bella seemed eternities away, hazy, as if he was another person entirely and was now looking at it through different eyes.

Before, he hadn't seemed to know what life had to offer, what possibilities lay out there. That he could actually enjoy spending time with another person his age was something he hadn't even contemplated, and now t hat he had, it was impossible to take it back and forget that it ever happened. His moments with her had changed his view of life, and nothing would ever be the same.

His view of life _before_ had been content, and he had been resigned to the life he was expected to lead. Even though he fought it in his mind, he knew he would eventually take a wife, and he would give her children and a good home. He would get an education, get a job, take over the mayoral position after his father perhaps, and live well. He had no hope, nothing about his future prospects excited him beyond being something that others had mapped out for him.

And now he knew for certain that none of those things ccould ever happen. He could never marry a lady he had no passion for, when he knew there was a girl like Bella out there, who could intrigue him so with just a couple hours of interaction that it left him shaken to his very core. He and Bella had barely spoken, and he knew so very little about her, and yet it was enough. It had given him the taste of something _more_. Something he could enjoy, not just endure.

He had to see her again, and this time he would make sure that they had more time together. He wanted to watch her read again, find out which books she liked the most, how many she had read and if she knew his favorites. He wanted her opinion on them all, and was already planning in his mind which ones he would make her read and then discuss with him. He wanted to know if she, too, lost herself in the characters of the books and wished that she were leading another life entirely. With the life she had, he was almost certain that she did. He wondered exactly what fictional life intrigued her the most.

His feet led him to the little first floor study, where he had taken Bella the previous day. He looked at the door hesitantly for just a second before venturing inside. He cringed as he saw the sofa as the memories from the night before came to him. He rubbed his jaw thoughtlessly, where he still could feel the sting from his father's palm.

His parents had not been pleased when they had found the dirt smeared all over the expensive fabric from Bella's dirty gown and shoes. His mother's yelling had woken him up at dawn.

"Edward Anthony Cullen! Edward, you come down here right this second!" she'd yelled, and he had been up off the bed in an instant. In a a panic he threw on the clothes he had worn last night, his heart hammering like a frightened bird's. Had they found out that he had taken a poor girl in with him last night? One of the servants might have seen or heard them; he knew they liked to cause a stir. Edward had been careless and far busier watching Bella than minding his secrecy. Perhaps Bella herself had come back to the house for some reason, oblivious to the rules and appearances of his home. Perhaps they had left traces somehow.

He fled down to the hallway where his mother was standing with her most furious scowl, and he leaned against the railing panting, looking around in a panic for any reason for his mother's anger.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked, only then noticing that she stood in front of an open door. More precisely, the door to the study. Reality crashed in on him as he realized what it was all about. How could he have been so careless? In the stress of getting Bella out of the house and slipping back unnoticed to his room, he had forgotten the mess they had made.

"How, young man, do you explain this?" she seethed and pointed to the ruined sofa. He stared at it wide eyed for several moments, scratching his head while looking for an excuse. His mind was unusually blank, not a single harmless explanation coming to him.

"Why do you think this is my doing? I lay in bed all night, Mother," he finally said.

"Don't you even try to make excuses. I asked Helen about it immediately of course, and she said that all the servants and maids were in their wing all night," his mother said, and he cringed. Helen was the housekeeper, the overseer of all the servants, and it was her job to keep everyone busy and to control the young servants' activities. Also, she had always been unreasonably strict with Edward ever since he was a little boy. It had probably pleased her immensely to say that Edward had to be the guilty one.

"Also," his mother continued, "I cannot remember you getting home before we went to bed last night. What in God's name did you _do_?"

"Um, it was wet outside and my shoes and pants got dirty. I forgot all about it when I came back, and as I wasn't sleepy yet, I sat down and read a little," he stammered. "I should have remembered that my clothing was dirty, I'm so sorry."

"What is going on here?" the deep and mighty voice of his father filled the room. His large frame occupied the doorway, and he laid a sinister look upon Edward before his eyes trailed to the sofa. Things had deteriorated from there on; his father had always had a problem with his temper, and when Edward saw the protruding vein throbbing upon his forehead, a vein he was a little too familiar with, he knew he was in trouble.

It had been hours, but the large mirror that hung on the study wall told him that his chin was still red and swollen from where his father's palm had made impact, and it stung when he touched it with his fingertips.

Edward sighed and turned away, facing the books and contemplating which one he would pick. His eyes fell upon the book that lay on the floor, forgotten in his hurry to get Bella out safely. His heart jumped a beat when he saw it, and he bent down to pick it up. It seemed to him that a piece of Bella's presence still lay in it, and he clutched it safely to his chest as he sat down, envisioning Bella sitting with the book in the exact same spot. The sofa cushions still smelled heavily of bleach after Helen had scrubbed them mercilessly earlier that day, murmuring curses about Edward under her breath.

His eyes followed the words on the page in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. He sat shifting through the pages for a few minutes time until he sighed and placed the book on the table beside him. He'd read it too many times and his mind just wandered to places he'd rather not visit rather than focusing on the words in front of him. Instead he pulled another book from the shelves, a crime he hadn't read before, and resumed his previous position. These words were fresh to him, and he was for a while able to submerge himself in the dramatic text.

After reading a few chapters, he put the book away and lay idly on the cushions, watching the dust fly past the light above him. Where the chandelier was fastened to the roof beam, there was a deep cut through the wood that had been made from decades of holding the heavy metal, and he fixed his eyes on it, looking without really seeing it. It wasn't long before it went blurry in the edges and its blackness swallowed up the whole room and everything faded away…

His body seemed light as a feather suddenly, and he was afloat on the cushions like they were the surface of a lake. He could hear the soft cooing of water and a soft breeze through grass, and he knew he wasn't alone in the room.

"What do you think of this dress?" Bella asked as she twirled around on the floor, making the white silk of her dress flare out around her. Its light color seemed to shine like a beacon, bathing the dark room in soft light. She laughed her most thrilling laugh as she sent Edward a shy look over her shoulder.

"It's beautiful," he said in awe, feeling the warmth that radiated from her. He wanted to run to her, lift her up and show her just how beautiful she was, but his body couldn't seem to move from his position on the sofa.

"You think?" she giggled and flew towards him, her feet several inches from the floor. It looked purely magical.

"Absolutely," Edward nodded. "Just like you."

Bella jumped softly, seemingly weightless, over the back of the sofa and hovered in the thin air above him, smiling like the light of the sun down on him. He wished he could reach up and touch her, to run his fingers over her soft, rosy red cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear. She leaned in closer, so close that she was almost touching him, and he yearned for it with his whole being, but when he could nearly feel her skin against his he was abruptly awoken by something soft hitting his head.

"Laying around snoring, are we, huh, lazy boy?" the nasal voice of Helen rung out and woke him fully from his dream. The light that had filled the room so warmly shrank back and he was yet again in the dark, dim study. He could have screamed out in ruthless frustration at the interruption, but he wouldn't give Helen any more reasons to vituperate him, not if he could help it.

"It seems I must have fallen asleep, yes," Edward nodded and sat up to stretch.

"Well, you couldn't have gotten much sleep last night, running around sullying the house and gorging in the kitchen as you were," she huffed. "Anyway, your mama wants you to get dressed up and cleaned before the guests arrive."

"The guests?"

"Don't you remember that you are having dinner with some of the families from your father's office today? I expect you to clean up by seven o'clock, or I'll scrub you myself and you know how that goes," Helen said while shaking her stubby finger at him like she always did.

"Yes, I'll be ready," Edward said in defeat.

"I hear that Emma Boyer is coming, you know that pretty redhead that is John Boyer's daughter. She has quite an eye for you."

"What a joy," Edward said with a wide smile as he rose from the sofa and headed out to the hallway, thankful that Helen was not familiar with sarcasm.

As he headed up towards his room, he wondered, not for the first time, why his parents kept a housekeeper that was so rude towards him. None of his friends had to stand up to such nonsense; he knew the oldest sons were always treated like gold in their homes. He'd even heard that his old school friend Charles Harris, who treated his subservients like dirt underneath his sole, often got his servants locked up for whole days if they talked back to him. He even some of his younger cousins in trouble at times. But no, things were rather the other way around in the Cullen household.

Later that night, when the living room was filled with chatter and laughter and rich people, Edward sat in a chair along the wall even more resigned and silent than usual. He watched as people walked around, talking politely to each other about politics and the weather, laughing at jokes that weren't funny and people they didn't really like. The wine they were sipping boldly made their cheeks redden and their voices rise, and it seemed to make the ladies' subtle glances at him less innocent and more predatory. He avoided their eyes at all costs. Eye contact always encouraged them, and he wasn't in the mood for any encouraging tonight, if he ever was.

He was incredibly thankful towards his mother as she called everyone to dinner just as Emma Boyer had worked up the courage to walk up to him, though he knew she'd boil her own hand if she knew she'd interrupted a possible conversation. He was quick to sit down next to his father and a few of his colleagues, and he had to wipe his face with a napkin to hide his smile when he saw the chagrin on Emma's face.

The men were discussing Cuba's rebellion against the Spanish rule, and Edward, who had always been interested in war and rebellions, listened intently. His father, already slightly intoxicated, was saying in a boisterous voice that the sinking of U.S.S. Maine in Havana could not have been a convenient coincidence, and that America should answer to the ridicule. Edward was able to forget his surroundings for a while as they discussed this matter.

"The belief that America should avoid getting involved in other countries is an outdated view," Edward stated. "These other countries are now at our doorstep with their warmongering."

"Edward, why don't you stop that ridicule and play some piano for us? The ladies would like to dance," his mother called out from across the table. Reluctantly he got up to do as she requested, and he heard his mother brag about what a fantastic musician he was. He rolled his eyes as he heard the ladies around her sigh.

He stayed behind the safety of his grand piano for the rest of the night, playing more from his own mind than from the sheet in front of him, as his mind busied itself with thoughts from his dream as the ladies swirled around on the floor.


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